When The Music Moves

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When the music moves the chef and the menu
I can not help but rock to the venue,

I grate and wind and fold and dip, all while cooking and that’s just my hips

Serving Foie gras to a Beyoncé bass beat?
I’ve played Metallica while serving Crème brûlée sweet.

I sway to a strawberry’s single sweet soliloquy
As I would to any doo-wop’s three-part harmony

My sifter sounds like maracas, the water running is backup hum,
And I’ll drop them all in heartbeat to do a Phil Collin’s air drum

Notes ringing crystal clear as an opera singer
Are like the perfect bite whose flavors linger

The perfect flavors require as much of a chef’s orchestration
As any conductor pulling together a musical temptation

And I dance as I chop and I chop as I sing and I sing as I fry, it’s a symbiotic thing

I can not help but rock to the venue,
When the music moves the chef and the menu

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Written for

Poetry Picnic Week 32: Topics on Twitter.com

Source Tweet: When Music Moves The Chef And The Menu

To those not familiar with Phil Collins I included a link to the reference within the poem. While the specific drum solo starts after the 5:00 mark, you really should listen to the entire song to get the full feel on why any of us familiar with the song will drop almost everything when that part comes to do the air drum.

On Fire

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18

Conflagration doused

In an
Exquisite cacophony of aches
I wake

Ethereal reminisces
Running abstract through my psyche
I smile

Sweet Luna
Had lain witness to the battle
Picking sides

Twin flames
Of our conjoined fires danced under
Indigo skies

Dragon shelved
You sleep the sleep of the just
Of angels

El Sol
In spangling coda, makes nimbus of
Your hair

But I
I know the beast is still inside and
You stir

Gently unfolding
The origami of our limbs
You wake

And blink
The ferment in my eyes your only warning
You smile

I inhale
And watch as sparks shimmy anew in your eyes
Then exhale

Flame on!

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Written for:

Poetry Jam | The Flame

<><>

The Sunday Whirl – Anniversary Wordle

Write a poem using the following words:

aches, abstract, cacophony, coda,  dragon, ethereal,
exquisite, ferment,  origami, shelved, shimmy, spangling

 

The Mountain

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The Rock Pile - Vietnam

The Rock Pile - Vietnam

Before me stands the mountain
Immense in its unbiased demand
That it will not be ignored

A violet by a mossy stone,
The rock I hid behind in the first skirmishes
Was a pale shade of that which was to come

It is an icon of headlong promises
Some made in the shadows of truth
While in a jaded light, others lie

I cannot take my time
Its force compels my movement
Yet I wait in silent vexation to approach

In the magic of a dancing wind
Fluttering leaves paint a serene scene
And I let my eyes drink a sky of stars

But in the bullet riddled heat of reality
There’s no time to engage thoughts of yesterday
This day, is the only day in existence

I did not elect this course of action
I just seek the balance between truths and lies
As I fight for another change of day

I am battered and bloodied
In more than just this weary shell of a body
Praying for just one more day and a wake-up

Pale eyes hang on blue faces
Some in envy, as others give thanks
The war for them is not over, but I am done

Behind me stands the mountain
My crossing complete, but in a perfect world
I’d have never had to cross it in the first place

Dog Tags

History.Net - Dog Tags found in South East Asia

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dVerse Poet Pub | Poetics – Duty Calls

Questioning

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12

Warm and naked
In my darkened room
My feminine softness casually at rest
Across the soft quilting of my bed
Curtains open to the night sky
I contemplate the relativity
Of distance

Inches to the map
Hours to the travel
Days to the calendar
It’s all infinity to the spirit

That would happily trade
The cooling breeze of the fan
Across my body
For the feel of a someone’s
Heated breath
Across my cheek

The slightest of frowns
Crease my brow in fear
As my head questions
All of the unknowns
While gently splayed fingers lay
Between my breasts in hope
As my spirit wonders
In all of the what ifs

I stare at Luna
Thinking how easy it would be
To turn this into something
Of the purely physical realm
But somehow I know
My questions and wonders
Will be answered in its own time
For what was touched is beyond
What the physical can reach

And in a rare act of mercy
Luna lets
My heavily lidded
Eyes fall
Dreaming
Instead of questioning
The potential
Spark

Another Chance

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20

Oh my love, no, give not into these fears,
Know ‘tis naught but love in this heart that sears
My words do not flow as a poet’s would
I concede I don’t speak them as oft as I should
Yet my feelings for you are very much there
Let not jealous tongues cause doubts of my care

Mistaken was I to take it for granted
‘Tis now I see how your views were slanted
Say you will give me the honor of thus
Aye, I will prove there’s a chance for us
Come my love; please, let me start fresh, anew
From this dearth to an abundance true

Of always showing the passion I hold for you within
Love, never will you have cause for such qualms again

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Written for

dVerse Poets Pub – FormForAll – Framed Couplets

Summanus

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21

Imagine I am Summanus

Thunder god of night

Full of dark promise

And surprise

Lingering in moonlight

Touching you

There

Reaching out with

Diaphanous fingers

Taking you to me

Let me gather you in

Gossamer arms

And hold you tight

Let my star-streaked tongue

Wax and wane

In supple poses

Over the blossom of you

And lick clean the soul

Of your body

Let my moon-body

Take yours

Mold the white heat

Of your passions

And form stars

Let me teach you

To suckle

The flow of the galaxies

from within in

For sustenance

You have known yearning

Known need

Known the hot darkness

Breeding fire inside

Let the chaos

Come

Our joining

Personified in

Aurora and comets

But first

Right now

Let me touch

The life at your lips

And hungrily kiss you

Into my eternity

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Entered in dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 40

In-FORM-ation – My List of Poetry Forms

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It still amuses my how many people are completely unaware that there are other forms of poetry in the world other than sonnets, limericks and haiku.

For the those curious about the various forms I have used I will list them here. This way I’m not repeating myself over and over again when reusing my favorite forms.

Let the class begin…

FORMS:

Abecedarius
Acrostic
Ae Freislighe
Alouette
Ars Poetica
Arun
Bref Double
Cascade
Cherita
Cinquain
Clarity Pyramid
Descort
Diamante
Duo-Ryhme
Emmett
Emotive Ten
Fibonacci Spiral
Ghazal
Glosa
Golden Shovel
Haibun
Hex Sonnetta
Karousel
Kouta
Kyrielle
Kyrielle Sonnet
La Lune
Lento
Monchielle
Monotetra
Monotetraiyat
Naani
Not Poem
Novem
Nove Otto
Octain
Oddquain
Oviellejo
Pantoum
Pathya Vat
Pleiades
Puente
Pushkin Sonnet
Quadrille
Quartern
Raccontino
Rime Enchainée
Rime Royal
Rondeau
Rubaiyat
Serpentine Verse
Sestina
Sonnet–Jeffreys
Sonnetina Uno
Strambotto – Siciliano / Romagnuolo / Toscano
Spine Poem
Tableau
Tanka / Super Tanka
Terza Rima
Terza Rima Sonnet
Tetractys
Than Bauk
Trireme  
Tritina
Ukiah
Villanelle
Villonnet
Wave Waltz
Weave Waltz
Zeno Poem

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Urban Haze

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17

If only I could drive my car to work
I wouldn’t be caught in this urban haze.
The streets spots filled, the garages are packed
Garage is too expensive anyways.
Going home from work in a funky sweat,
Back of my throat like bottom of ashtrays.
The hour’s lucubration gone downhill,
Under the glare of my boss’ sharp gaze.
My corporate suit felt so good at work,
Now I’m out in midst of this darn blaze.
The walk’s a distance by foot to the train
And my suit is torture under these rays.
If only I could drive my car to work
I wouldn’t be caught in this urban haze.
Want to take off my jacket but I can’t,
Caught some strange guy checking me out slant ways.
Can feel my silk blouse sticking to my skin,
Yet I’m so not about to make his days
And see just how fitting my form can be,
But it’s worse in the sauna of subways.
For once again the AC’s not running.
This train’s the epitome of clichés.
Practice mental transference while I’m here,
To somewhere with pools and drinks and valets.
If only I could drive my car to work
I wouldn’t be caught in this urban haze.
All packed up on each other like sardines,
Is it the train or heat that’s causing sways?
Grateful that I’m finally at my stop,
Caught again in of those train delays.
At last! I am the phoenix bird rising,
From the deep pyre walking up the stairways.
Got the number for dinner on speed dial
The thought of cooking has me in a daze.
Little trooper I am I brave the heat,
But sometimes I swear I hate the weekdays.
If only I could drive my car to work
I wouldn’t be caught in this urban haze.

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Today’s form is a Raccontino.

The raccontino is an unlimited number of couplets, rhyming xb xb xb xb xb, etc. The syllable count is set in the first line and followed throughout the poem.

Entered in dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: Subway

Of Plans And Raivenne

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Plans change and now my day is free
To vegetate?
No not
I.

Shades await this
bluest
sky.

I must enjoy
This gift,
Bye!

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Yes, another Zeno poem (Ten lines with the syllable count: 8/4/2/1/4/2/1/4/2/1 and a rhyme scheme: a/b/c/d/e/f/d/g/h/d). Because the day is too beautiful to stay in for anything verbose.

Enjoy your weekend folks – I’m outta here!

Moshing

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33

Music blares through amplifiers
Heavy Metal
Bass line
Loud

My age shocks some
In this
Crowd

Me in the mosh
Thrashing
Proud

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Last week I went to an underground concert to support and critique a friend whose band was performing there. Let’s just say I could have given birth to most of the other attendees with whom I was front stage and center dancing up a storm. Conversations while different bands set up, comparing the ones performing that night to other older (sometimes much older), bands is when some realized I was not even within fifteen years of their age. As faces ebbed and flowed that night, it became something of a running gag for some whippersnapper in the know to grab a newcomer and have him or her guess my age. Yes, Advil was dear my friend the next morning, but this Mama held her own proudly that night.

Because when this mama rocks, it’s not in a chair.

A conversation I had yesterday regarding my love of head banging music reminded me of last week’s concert. I decided to immortalize it by trying another Zeno poem (Ten lines with the syllable count: 8/4/2/1/4/2/1/4/2/1 and a rhyme scheme: a/b/c/d/e/f/d/g/h/d).

That it also happens to fit this weeks dVerse challenge of “keeping it small” is an added bonus. 22 words total!

dVerse ~ Pets Pub | MeetingTheBar: It’s a small, small world — so let’s LIMBO like there is no tomorrow